


English Rose

by TheAsexualofSpades



Series: Quarantine Drabbles [70]
Category: Agent Carter (Marvel Short Film), Agent Carter (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Peggy Carter, Cartinelli - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Dress Up, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Gratuitous use of the word Lovely, Lesbian Angie Martinelli, Peggy Carter & Howard Stark Friendship, Peggy and Angie are distinguished and disaster queers, Plants, Protective Peggy Carter, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a teeny tiny bit of homophobia but it's all in subtext and not explicit at all, actress Angie Martinelli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: As is to be expected of anyone who associates with Howard Stark for extended periods of time, Peggy is invited to a party as part of Howard's entourage with the task of bringing a companion. This isn't SSR business, nor does Peggy have a surplus of friends to invite.Enter Angie Martinelli.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli
Series: Quarantine Drabbles [70]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655
Comments: 3
Kudos: 95





	English Rose

**Author's Note:**

> i love my vintage lesbians so much and you will pry them from my cold dead hands
> 
> also yes I'm putting more musical theatre references in here Angie is an actress and also you can't stop me

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: “Aww, you’re blushing like a rose.”

* * *

“Wait, I gotta do _what?_ ”

Peggy rolls her eyes, leaning against the doorframe as Angie shoots up from the couch. “It’s a simple request, Angie, one that you are perfectly welcome to say ‘no’ to.”

“You’re inviting me to some fancy-pants party?” Angie repeats with her eyes wide. “Why? Ain’t you got plenty of other people to invite?”

Peggy tilts her head to the side. “Who, pray tell, would I invite?”

“What about Mr. Fancy? Ain’t he the poster boy for it?”

“Mr. Jarvis will indeed be going, but he will be accompanying Mr. Stark.”

  
  
Honestly, if Angie’s eyes get any bigger, the image of them popping clear out of her skull becomes more and more likely. Peggy raises an eyebrow when Angie flops herself back down onto the couch. “There really is no need to be this dramatic.”

“ _Howard Stark_ is going to this party? English, I ain’t in the habit of sayin’ ‘no’ to you, but what the hell are you thinking?”

Peggy stifles a laugh, coming to join Angie on the couch. “You _are_ allowed to say no, Angie.”

“What about all them office boys?” Angie looks up at her through the curls of hair hanging over her face. “I’m sure any of them would die to come with you.”

“As a matter of fact, no, they wouldn’t,” Peggy mutters.

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

Peggy sighs, leaning back against the couch, its plush leather cradling her neatly. At least Howard knew how to pick a sofa.

“This party is something of a…networking event. I have been enlisted to come as a representative of my agency.” _And as Howard's secret bodyguard._

“So then why ain’t you bringing another one with you?”

Peggy leans a little closer to Angie. “Because they would attract suspicion. It's not strictly agency business. Plus, Howard’s entourage is to consist of him, Mr. Jarvis, me, and one other person. It would be less conspicuous for the group to be two women and two men as opposed to three men and one woman.”

Angie nods. Then she leans back to mimic Peggy’s posture. “It ain’t that I don’t wanna go, English.”

A flash of movement draws Peggy’s eye and she looks down. Angie’s hand lies on her upper leg, fingers twitching. Making the decision for them, Peggy reaches out and covers Angie’s hand with hers, silently encouraging her to go on.

“I mean,” Angie murmurs, “are you kidding? It’s everything a small-town girl like me dreams of. Big fancy party, walking around in a fancy dress, nobbin’ with all the muckety-mucks…”

“You’ll be fantastic,” Peggy says, giving her hand a little squeeze.

“But I don’t know how to _do_ that,” Angie says, “I’m not some big hotshot. I barely get acting jobs as it is, they ain’t gonna know my name, and what if they—“

Angie cuts herself off, pressing her lips firmly together. Peggy glances over, concerned, only to see Angie shake her head at herself and drop her chin to her chest.

“What if they…?”

“What if they decide to… _help_ me,” Angie finishes weakly, the hand under Peggy’s beginning to tremble ever so slightly. “I heard stories. From the other girls. Even some of the boys. I don’t…I wanna be an actress, more than anything, but I…”

Oh.

“Angie, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

Angie looks up, clearly wary of the steel that had slipped unbidden into Peggy’s tone. She softens it, squeezing Angie’s hand tight.

“You are never alone,” she says firmly, “you were not alone when you worked at the Laundromat. You are not alone when you go to work at the theatre. And you will not be alone at this party.”

Angie’s eyes widen and her bottom lip trembles faintly.

“You have me,” Peggy continues, allowing a tiny, hopeful smile to form on her face, “you will always have me.”

“Jeez, English,” Angie huffs, an answering smile on her face, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Happy tears, I hope?”

“Happy tears,” Angie agrees, a little breathless before she throws her arms around Peggy’s neck. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me, English, you got no idea.”

“Of course, Angie,” Peggy says automatically, cradling her actress to her chest. As she rubs Angie’s back, smiling at the giddy laughter interrupting the sobs, she finds her brow furrowing as she considers the implications of this.

How many other people had not provided this kind of support for Angie? How many times had she reached out only for her efforts to be rebuffed and told they were not worthwhile?

Angie pulls back, wiping away the last of her tears. “Oh, English, I wanna go. I really wanna go.”

“Then you shall go,” Peggy says, smiling brightly when Angie’s face lights up. “Mr. Jarvis has already vouched for you so—“

“Wait, Mr. Fancy did _what_?”

Peggy smiles, her hands still holding Angie steady. “He said that you are, to quote, ‘an exemplary tenant with a level of sophistication and kindness that is a rarity in this world.’”

Angie’s mouth drops open. “He did _not_ say that,” she says, lightly shoving Peggy’s shoulder, “you’re making it up, English.”

“I can assure you I speak the truth. You’re welcome to ask him when you see him.”

“I will, thanks,” Angie declares, only for the both of them to burst into giggles a few moments later. “Come on, English, you can’t blame me for being suspicious.”

“Why not?”

Angie gestures around at their surroundings. “I ain’t exactly used to living in the lap of luxury.”

“No,” Peggy agrees, “but you’re lovely.”

_Bollocks._

Angie’s head swivels around and she gives Peggy a confused look. “What?”

“I mean,” Peggy says quickly, “you’re kind. You care about the feelings and boundaries of others, and as an actress, you channel that into adapting to your circumstances. It’s lovely, Angie.”

She blinks in surprise when Angie’s cheeks flush, turning her actress an equally lovely shade of pink.

“Aw,” she murmurs, letting the affection color her tone, “you’re blushing like a rose.”

Angie huffs. “Can you blame me? You’re basically sittin’ over there writing me poems and you’re… _you,_ Peg.”

“What do you mean, I’m ‘me?’”

Angie gives Peggy a look. “For a super-spy, you really ain’t that observant when you don’t wanna be.”

…well, that, or Peggy’s worried about her ability to observe impartially. Before she can say anything to that effect though, Angie’s saying something else.

“Plus, English, I dunno if you just haven’t been looking, but people ain’t exactly falling all over themselves for me on the regular.” Angie flops back down onto her side of the couch and Peggy barely has a moment to miss the feeling of her practically in her lap before— “I ain’t used to _that_ kind of attention.”

“Surely as an actress, though—“

“Yeah, yeah, them _big_ hotshots get it. Me? I’m lucky if someone recognizes my face when I’m standing in costume.” Angie gives her a smile. “That’s okay, though. I’ll get there.”

“Yes, you will.” Peggy gets to her feet and holds out a hand. “Now come on, I’m sure they’ll love you at the party as well.”

“Wait, when is it?” Angie takes Peggy’s hand and lets her pull her up. “It ain’t tonight, is it?”

“No, of course not. It’s tomorrow night. I’ve checked, you’re free.”

“Well, I mean yeah, but—“ Angie runs her hands down her modest dress. “I ain’t got nothing to wear!”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Peggy says, “we’ll just go shopping to find something you like if none of the others fit you.”

“Wait,” Angie squeaks as Peggy starts walking towards one of the various corners of the house, “ _others?_ ”

“Howard Stark,” Peggy announces, sweeping open one of the closets, “is an extremely eccentric, dramatic, perplexing man. With the company he keeps, he does not expect all of them to have…the wardrobe necessary for all of their outings.”

Angie peers over Peggy’s shoulder, gawking at the array of dresses inside.

“Mr. Jarvis has said that these—“ she indicates one half of the rack— “are the most likely to fit you and your tastes, however—“

“I getta wear all these dresses for free?”

Peggy smiles at Angie’s enthusiasm. “Yes, you do.”

“Wait, what’re you gonna wear?”

Peggy shrugs. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Angie shakes her head. “Uh-uh. You an’ me…we’re gonna figure out what we’re wearing tonight. And we’re gonna look great. You probably got some fancy schmancy dresses already, don’tcha?”

Peggy nods. Angie claps her hands.

“Then you go grab ‘em and meet me back here. We’ll help each other!”

As Peggy goes to retrieve her dresses, she finds the smile hasn’t yet left her face. What is it about this that’s got her so excited? It’s not the prospect of going to the party, nor is it the trying on of dresses she’s already worn. Being ‘ladylike’ is not exactly in her vocabulary.

But as she rounds the corner, back inside and sees Angie still bustling about, laying dresses on the bed, frowning with immense concentration at the different fabrics, only to have her face light up when she sees Peggy, she knows what it is.

“Oh my god, English!” Angie holds up the sleeve of the silver dress she’d last worn to Spider Raymond’s club. “You’d be such a knockout in this!”

“I fear it’s a tad too ostentatious,” Peggy says, carefully laying them down on the other end of the bed, “and I’d hate to outshine _you._ ”

Angie flaps a hand. “Oh please. We’ll both be knockouts. I was thinking this one with the pearls, whatcha think?”

Angie holds up a black dress with pearl details around the collar, holding it against her to see how it falls.

Peggy shrugs. “I think you’re going to have to try it on,” she says, grinning, “just to see.”

“You’re gonna spoil me, English,” Angie says, but disappears behind the screen in the corner. “You pick out the first one to try while I’m doing this!”

Peggy glances over her selections. She doesn’t have very many, certainly not as many as Angie. With a shrug, she decides to try on the one Angie likes first. Getting into it isn’t nearly as comfortable as she’d like, but she manages. She turns around to see Angie looking the epitome of elegance in the black dress, her jaw on the floor.

“Holy _cow,_ English!”

Peggy blushes. “It’s not that much.”

“Are you kidding?” Angie rushes up to her, pulling her hand over so she can see herself in the full-length mirror. “Look at you!”

All Peggy can see is the last time she wore it. Spider Raymond, the molecular nitramene, Coleen…

“Actually,” Angie says, “on second thought, maybe not. Looks a bit like it’s wearin’ you and not the other way around.”

Bless her observant actress. Peggy nods, moving away to look at Angie instead. It truly looks wonderful, but it’s not quite Angie.

“I don’t think this one’s quite me,” Angie says, turning back and forth, “feels too…snobby.”

“Well then, what about this one?” Peggy points to an off-the-shoulder gown with a longer train. “Much less snobby.”

“Then why don’t you try on the red one over there?”

Peggy nods, taking the red dress in her arms and watching Angie disappear behind the screen again. Hiding a smile, she pulls in on mindlessly, preferring to linger on how Angie’s hand felt on her shoulder, grounding her out of those terrible memories. Lovely Angie, lovely…

Well, she was certainly eye-catching in the second gown, at least until she tripped trying to finish come out from behind the screen. Peggy catches her, laughing along with her as Angie declares ‘nope!’ and tosses her hair over her shoulder.

“I don’t think that one’s enough,” she muses, looking Peggy up and down as they get back on their feet, “sure, you look like a million bucks, but…it’s missing something.”

“Well, I’ve got one more to try.” Peggy glances over the spread on the edge of the bed. “And you’ve got plenty.”

“Here English,” Angie says, looping the train over her arm and striding over to grab it, “you change behind the screen this time. I’ll look my selection over and change out here.”

“Alright.”

Peggy can’t hear more than a few faint rustlings as Angie presumably picks her dress, focused on pulling the burgundy dress over her own head. It’s not quite as risqué as the sparkly one, but it does offer a generous view of her, er, ‘assets’ and comes just below her knee. She hears the rustlings outside grow quiet and peeks around the corner, her jaw hitting the floor.

Angie stands there in a floor-length dusty rose gown that molds to her curves like a glove. The material shimmers and flows like water around her, wrapping her in a shroud of etherealness that almost makes it seem like she’s floating. A slightly plunged neckline offers a view of her collarbones, the bell sleeves framing her shoulders wonderfully.

“You…” Peggy tries, her eyes traveling slowly up and down the length of her, “…Angie, you’re absolutely stunning.”

“I like this one,” Angie says softly, turning to and fro in the mirror, “I really like this one, Peg.”

“Oh, darling, it’s simply _marvelous,”_ Peggy agrees, still spellbound.

Angie quirks a brow. “You gonna hide over there the whole night?”

Oh, yes, right. Peggy steps out, suddenly feeling just a touch inadequate, only to have Angie gasp.

“Oh, Peg, it’s perfect! Come here!”

She lets Angie pull her to the mirror and her breath catches. Standing side by side, the two shades compliment each other perfectly, the sharpness of Peggy’s dress and the smoothness of Angie’s balancing to create a seamless look.

“We’re knockouts, English,” Angie says excitedly, grasping Peggy’s hand.

“Of course,” Peggy murmurs, still unable to take her eyes of Angie.

Angie giggles. “You wanna picture, English? It’ll last longer.”

“I don’t need a picture,” Peggy all but growls, “because I have _you._ ”

Ah, well, now Angie’s cheeks are turning the same shade as the dress. Peggy can’t help making a comment on it, stepping a little closer to see that yes, they are indeed precisely the same shade.

“Knock it off, English,” Angie says through her giggles, “you’re making me burn up over here.”

“But you’re simply gorgeous, darling,” Peggy says, “why shouldn’t I tell you so?”

Angie turns away. Peggy frowns. “Does it bother you that much? Should I stop?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no, you don’t gotta. I, uh…” Angie fiddles with a little part of her sleeve— “I kinda like it.”

“Then why are you hiding over there,” Peggy asks gently, “come, let me see you.”

“You’re callin’ me ‘darling,’ English.”

Oh. Oh, bollocks.

“You…I’m gonna believe you, Peggy,” Angie mumbles, “and I, um, I ain’t gonna want you to stop.”

Peggy takes a moment to look at Angie. Really look, past the lovely dress, just at Angie.

“Come here,” she says softly, holding out her hands.

Angie hesitates, still not looking up.

“Don’t be like that,” Peggy chides when Angie folds her arms over her middle, “come here.”

Angie does, letting Peggy take her hands. _Poor thing is still blushing furiously,_ Peggy notes, giving Angie’s hands a comforting squeeze.

“Look at me.”

“…you’re gonna kill me, English.”

“It’s alright. Look at me.”

Angie raises her head and Peggy smiles, taking a tiny step closer and lacing their fingers together.

“I’m not going anywhere, Angie,” Peggy murmurs, watching Angie’s eyes go wide, “and there is no one I would rather call ‘darling.’”

Angie’s blush doesn’t fade but that worried little wrinkle between her eyebrows does. “I, uh, I didn’t know you…liked getting dinner in the Village, English.”

“Every once in a while,” Peggy agrees, lightly swinging their hands back and forth.

"I, um, can I...I mean, is it okay if I—"

Peggy interrupts her adorable ramblings by leaning forward and cutting her off with a kiss. Angie gasps into her mouth when Peggy pulls her closer. It’s just a barely-there press of their lips, but it’s so warm, so sweet, so lovely.

"Yes, Angie," she murmurs into Angie's mouth when they part for a split-second, "it's alright."

Angie closes the distance between them and kisses her again. It's absolutely lovely. 

When they break away the second time, Peggy smiles at the stars in Angie's eyes. “Don’t you see, darling?”

Angie huffs. “I really don’t want you to stop calling me that.”

“Then I won’t, darling.”

“English,” Angie whines, “you’re gonna make me go red permanently!”

“I wouldn’t say red,” Peggy teases, letting go of one of Angie’s hands to lightly graze the underside of her jaw. “You’re pink, my darling. Pink as a rose.”

Angie’s eyes light up. “Hey, ain’t an English rose a flower?”

Peggy shakes her head. “I’m afraid botany is not my strong suit.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Angie insists, tugging Peggy with her as she starts to leave the room.

“Darling—Angie, where are we going?”

“Come on, English!”

Angie leads them on a frantic dash to one of the studies, running through the halls breathless, in their fancy dresses, hair a mess, smiles bright.

Angie finally lets go of Peggy’s hand in front of a bookshelf, grabbing a book and flipping through it. “Yeah, here it is! Look!”

Sure enough, there it is. It’s quite a pretty thing, all wrapped up in its intricate petals. “Well, so it is.”

“It’s the same color as my dress!”

“And your blush.”

“English!”

“Rose.”

Angie fumbles, almost dropping the book. Peggy catches it, smiling at how Angie looks.

“I, uh, I changed my mind,” Angle mumbles, “I don’t want you to stop callin’ me _that._ ”

Peggy smiles, coming close enough to run her hand along Angie’s warm cheek. “Very well, my darling rose.”

“ _Jeez,_ English!”

“What?”

“Like you don’t know!” Angie flaps her hands. “You got me over here like a schoolgirl!”

“And you look lovely.”

Angie swats her hand away but doesn’t stop smiling. “Come on, we should get outta these dresses and save ‘em for tomorrow. I don’t wanna mess ‘em up.”

Peggy raises an eyebrow.

“Oh not like _that,_ English!”

“I’m aware,” Peggy says, looping her arm through Angie’s as they walk back out of the study.

“You’re something, English.”

“As are you.”

They leave the book behind, open on the picture of the English rose, its pale pink petals curving about a darker center, green leaves framing it on the page. At the bottom of the page is a small paragraph, set apart from the rest of the plant’s botanical description.

**_In the garden, the English Roses are the sweetest blossoms, the fairest queens, cultivating their secret loves as they grow strong together._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


End file.
